Harry Potter and the Battle of Hogwarts
by aanimo
Summary: Harry Potter was born a Squib. At 15, he is invited to Hogwarts. When he arrives, he finds a school nearly in civil war. How can he save Hogwarts, when he can't even do magic?
1. Prologue

**Harry Potter and the Squib's Rebirth**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

AN: This is a little story I felt like writing. It will be highly AU, hopefully a bit of fun can be had. The prologue is a bit rushed, but I wanted that feeling of urgency. The following chapters will be longer and more detailed. The next should be up within a week! Enjoy!

**Prologue**

The moonlight sifted through the ruins of the house. Here and there scraps of paper floated in the night breeze, here and there bits of dust fell back to the ground. In the middle of it all was a crib. In the crib was a baby.

The peace of the night was disturbed by a loud crack. Tall and thin, an elderly man appeared from thin air. Three other cracks sounded shortly afterwards. Appearing were two men and a woman. They all had wands in their hands.

"No. . ." whispered one of the men, his long black hair hanging over his face.

"James!" shouted the other.

"Harry. . ." was the name that the first, elderly man spoke. "Harry is still here."

"Is he alive, Albus?" the woman asked sharply.

"Yes. Follow me." Albus led them in through the ruins, over to what appeared to have a been a living room, on the ground they saw the crib.

"Thank God," said the man with long black hair.

Upon hearing this, Albus turned to him. "You'll have to take him Sirius. Take him to Black Manor. . ."

"What about Pettigrew!" the man, Sirius, snapped out.

"Harry is more important. Take him, Sirius, and raise him as your son. I will deal with Pettigrew."

"Very well, Albus. But be warned: if you don't find him, or the Ministry doesn't punish him strongly enough, I will hunt him down and kill him."

"Have you thought, Sirius, that perhaps we do not know the whole story of why he did what he did?"

"Yes, Albus. And I know that that doesn't matter. I would have died for Peter – for Pettigrew, as would Remus and James. No matter what. We trusted him with our lives, as he trusted us with his. He sat there, as I told James to use him as his Secret Keeper, and he nodded and said yes. He betrayed me! He killed James and Lily! If you don't deal with him appropriately, then when Harry is old enough I'll take him rat hunting, and we'll give Pettigrew a Marauder's revenge."

Albus Dumbledore bowed his head. "Very well, Sirius. However, I think there is one thing you should know about Harry Potter."

Sirius lifted his head and looked at the baby Potter. He picked him up out of the crib, and held him. "What, Dumbledore? What else?"

"Harry Potter cannot do magic. I am afraid that he is a Squib."


	2. Chapter 1  Soaking the Headmaster

**Chapter 1**

"Sirius!" Harry screamed as he ran out of his room. The fifteen-year-old boy was livid with rage – and soaked with water. Every now and again, it amused his godfather Sirius to strategically position a bucket of water over his bed. Amusing the first couple of times, perhaps. . .no, it wasn't even funny then.

Harry's room was on the upper level of the Black Mansion, a four story house in southern Ireland. As he charged out of his room, he turned to the right and sprinted down a hallway. He could hear insane giggling coming from one of the rooms – Sirius always laughed after a succesful prank. Harry threw open the door to his godfather's room, and found not Sirius, but his house-elf giggling on the floor. "Why are you laughing, Loki?" Harry asked.

"I don't know, sir," the house-elf replied, standing up and ceasing all laughter. "The master requested that I giggle until you found me." Harry cursed the fact that Sirius had found a house-elf that was not only intensely loyal to his master, but also shared his master's sense of humor.

"Wasn't one of you in a household enough?" Harry complained.

"I'm sure I don't know what sir means," Loki replied.

"I'm sure you don't. I don't suppose you'd tell me where Sirius is?"

"I would, sir, I would, only he appears to have left the property."

Harry grinned. This was it – he'd have Sirius now. "How did he leave, Loki?"

"By Floo, young sir. Now, if sir does not mind, I should like to get back to the cleaning that master interrupted."

"Go ahead, Loki, go ahead!" With that, the house-elf disappeared with a pop. Harry then turned and ran back to his room.

"Balloons, balloons, where did I put them?" he muttered to himself as he searched through his messy room. First checking the usual suspect places – under the bed, behind the dresser, under the pile of clean clothes on the dirty floor, and so forth. Finally he threw up his hands in frustration, before striding out of the room.

He ran down the stairs, skipping stairs and jumping over bannisters before sliding down the last bannister and running into the kitchen. He filled a pot with water, and then walked out of the kitchen and towards the fireplace. Sirius would be back soon, no doubt.

While he waited, Harry flicked on a CD player. The wizarding world was pretty spectacular, no doubt, but no one in it could produce music like muggles did. Humming along to the song, Harry barely noticed the green sparks shooting up in the fireplace. He ran over to the pot, picked it up, and threw the water the minute someone appeared.

"Er. . .good morning?" ventured a now thoroughly soaked Albus Dumbledore.

Sirius arrived a moment later, and after taking in the sight of a drenched Albus Dumbledore and his godson holding a water-pot with a very guilty expression on his face promptly broke into hysterical laughter. "Oh! This is too much Harry! You thought he was me?'

"Well. . ." Harry mumbled. "Who else would it be? Sorry Headmaster Dumbledore."

"No problem, my dear boy. It has been far too long since anyone has ventured to prank me. I think Sirius did a good job of it, though perhaps overacted a bit towards the end."

Harry's eyes widened. "You mean. . ."

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "Having taught Sirius for seven years, I know his style."

"You mean the whole thing was a set-up to make me soak you? But – Loki told me – blast!" Harry exclaimed. "Why did you have to get a house-elf who acts like you, Sirius?"

Sirius' shoulders sunk a bit. "I can't believe you figured it out Dumbledore. I thought I'd done everything perfectly!"

"You would have, Sirius, you would have – except that I saw James pull this exact same prank on Lily a few years back – you recall?"

"And that Harry," Sirius said, turning to his godson. "Is brains. How do you remember everything, Albus?"

"Oh, not everything, dear boy. Just a few things – that one because it was that day that Lily introduced me to the concept of lemon drops – a truly delightful treat. The wizarding world has yet to produce an equivalent! I'll never forget coming to your house after purchasing some on her recommendation and finding her screaming at James because he arranged things for her to pour honey all over her darling little boy."

Harry smiled. It was always good to hear stories about his mum and dad. Not that he didn't love his godfather – he did. It was just – different. He never really knew them, and yet he wanted them more than anything else in his life, even magic. He supposed it –

"Harry?" Sirius' voice broke through his thoughts. "The Headmaster was coming over this morning anyway to discuss something with you privately. If you'd like to show him into the drawing room, I'll have Loki send up some breakfast."

"I suppose I should get some dry clothes, first," said Harry, still wet from Sirius' wake up call.

"Not to worry Harry," Dumbledore said, waving his wand to dry off their clothes, and walking past Harry up the stairs. Sirius couldn't help but notice that Harry looked a little wistful at that.

"Harry," Sirius began.

"Don't worry about it, Sirius," Harry said. "It's ok. I've lived my whole life with it." With that he turned and followed Dumbledore up the stairs to the drawing room.

As Harry entered the drawing room, he looked around him. It was a familiar place – normally where he and Sirius would spend the evenings playing chess, or exploding snap, or reading. Harry's life was, he supposed, unusual compared to most children. He didn't have many friends his own age – he didn't really know many wizards and witches besides Sirius, Remus, Dumbledore, and McGonagall. Because he was a Squib, most wizards and witches were uncomfortable around him, doubly so because of his status as the boy who killed Voldemort. For that reason, he spent most of his time flying the grounds of the Black Manor, or playing with local muggles, or reading.

Harry read an enormous amount. He was obsessed with magic – not surprising, because of his inability to use it. He studied magical history, magical theory, Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Potions, and Astrology. Potions and flying were his true loves, though – the two things that, as a Squib, he could really do. He also studied martial arts with Sirius – who had learned them officially over the summers of his school years (although he snuck to Hogsmeade fairly frequently for lessons with wizard martial arts masters during the year.) Sirius thought that Harry might need it to defend himself – he could be fairly paranoid. Though Harry supposed it would do him some good – how much use it would be against Dark Wizards was suspect, though.

Dumbledore was seated on the far side of the room, observing Harry from over steepled hands. Harry walked nervously across the floor, to stand in front of him. Something about Dumbledore always made Harry nervous. Perhaps it was simply the air of power the man had, or perhaps the way his blue eyes seemed to see straight into Harry's brain.

"Please, take a seat, Harry," Dumbledore said, gesturing to a chair beside him with one hand. Harry walked forward and sat down. "You know, Harry, that I worked long and hard to make the Board of Governors accept you at Hogwarts." Harry nodded. It had always been his greatest wish to attend, even though he couldn't do magic, but the Board had be adamant that no Squib would be a student at Hogwarts. "However, it seems that after I prevented Voldemort from returning to power last year the Board is more willing to listen to me than ever, and I took the opportunity to place the idea before them again." Last year it was discovered that Voldemort hadn't really been dead – he had performed a spell to sever his soul into seven parts and place them in objects called Horcruxes. Dumbledore had caught on and intervened before Voldemort regained a body, and had since destroyed the Horcruxes.

Harry held his breath. He didn't want to trust to hope – but why would Dumbledore bring this up again if the answer had been no? Surely he wasn't that cruel. . .

"However, in order to not keep you in too much suspense, I will say right now that – should you choose, you will be able to go to Hogwarts this fall."

Harry's mouth dropped open and he collapsed backwards in the chair. "Are you serious, Headmaster?"

"Extremely so, Harry. However, before you rejoice too much, understand that there will be some. . .requirements. Some strictures."

Harry nodded. He had assumed as much. "What are they, Headmaster?"

"Well, first off, the Board was unwilling to have you enrolled as a student, since you cannot participate in the practical magic courses, and the exams have large amounts of practical work. However, I was able to convince them to place this offer before you. You will be able to attend Hogwarts, and attend any of the courses you want (although the pure theory courses and potions will be required), as long as you are ostensibly there as a tutor. As such you will have to make yourself available to tutor students in magical theory of any subject. However, because of this status I was able to wrangle some. . .perks." On that the Headmaster winked at Harry.

Harry laughed. "What perks, sir?"

"Well – prefect status for one. Permission to try out for school quidditch teams for another."

"Yes!" Harry pumped his hand in the air.

Dumbledore smiled. "Shall I inform Minerva that Gryffindor will have a new Seeker this year?"

Harry knew what the real question was. Was he going to Hogwarts? It was a dream come true, certainly. He had longed to go to Hogwarts since he could first understand what magic was – and what he was. But in his fantasies he was always able to perform magic. Would it be unbearable to be there, surrounded by people who were all swishing wands through the air, and be unable to join in? Then again, he wasn't able to join in here, either. And did he really want to spend his life at Black Manor, or in the muggle world?

"Professor?" Harry said.

"Yes, Harry?"

"I'll do it. But on one condition."

"What is that?" Dumbledore leaned forward, intrigued.

"I don't want to go as Harry Potter. I'll be strange enough – a squib at Hogwarts. I don't also want to be the boy-who-lived."

"Who would you like to be then, Harry?"

Harry smiled. "That's easy. Marcus Ilmarinen Black."

"Very well. This fall, Marcus Ilmarinen Black will be coming to Hogwarts. I shall send you your letter and booklist sometime over the next few weeks." Dumbledore stood and walked towards the door. When he reached it, he turned around and said, "Oh, and Harry? Good choice."

AN: There it is! Chapter 1, at a grand total of 5 pages. Not too long, not too short, I hope! Hope you enjoyed it, feel free to review with criticism, compliments, or just a hi there! Next chapter will be up with 5 days, hopefully.


	3. Chapter 2 Hogwart's Express

**AN: **Hey there! This is actually only half of the chapter, but I didn't think I'd be able to finish editing the rest tonight, and wanted to fulfill my no-more-than-a-week-between-updates promise. Hope you enjoy it! (And hope it isn't too rushed. . .)

**Chapter 2 – Hogwart's Express**

"Harry!" Sirius yelled. "We need to leave soon if you're going to make it to the Hogwart's Express on time!"

Harry sighed. Sirius had started an official countdown two hours ago when he rolled Harry out of bed. Apparently, Sirius' mother had always woken him up four hours before they had to leave so he'd have enough time to groom himself as befit the heir of the House of Black. Sirius had hated it when he was a kid, so, naturally, he took evil delight in torturing Harry in the same way.

Harry ran a hand through his hair in exasperation, glancing around his room for any forgotten objects. He had managed to fit a couple hundred books in his multi-compartment trunk (it had been Sirius', and had the motto of the Black family strewn across it in gold inlay. Sirius thought it extremely funny that a Potter – and a squib – was using a trunk with the motto _Toujours Pur_, _Always Pure_, on it.) He had his broomstick – a custom one that Sirius had made him. He had the Marauder's Map, modified so it only required the words, and not the touch of a wand as well. He had his dad's invisibility cloak. An entire potions kit was in the last compartment. A frown found its way across his face. How could he have forgotten? He walked to his dresser, and picked picture of his parents dancing off of it, laying it down gently among his clothes.

With a snick, the trunk closed, and Harry lifted it up and placed it on the stairs. Loki would take it down. He returned to his room, looked around for a moment, whispered a good-bye to it, and turned and shut the door, shuddering at the thought of the amount of pranks that would great him at Christmastime.

Turning, Harry followed his normal leap-and-slide path down the staircases of the house. Loki, sure enough, had already grabbed his trunk, and it was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. He dropped off the banister to the floor, and stood waiting for his godfather. A moment later, the lanky form of Sirius Black made its appearance. "Come on, Harry! We're going to the Leaky Cauldron by Floo!"

"Oh, right!" Harry said quickly. "I knew that."

"Ha! It's a good thing you have me around to keep you in line. I can't imagine what a mess your life'll be at Hogwarts without my firm parental guidance, Marcus."

"Sirius! Stop using that name!"

"You need to get used to it, Markie-kins. " Harry sighed. He had liked the name Marcus Black when he suggested it, but Sirius had found it all too easy to make fun of. Then again, Sirius made fun of everything.

Sirius had meanwhile jumped into the fire and shouted "Leaky Cauldron." Harry hefted his trunk into the fire after Sirius, and then stepped into the fire himself. He hated travelling by fire with a trunk. The fire whisked him away, and he spun faster and faster. Finally, he saw the Leaky Cauldron's grate approaching. The fireplace spun him out with a bit of a cough, and Harry barely remained standing as he stumbled into the pub. "Here we are, Marcus!" Sirius proclaimed, sweeping a mock-bow, before he was interrupted by a voice.

"As I live and breathe! Sirius Black!" A wizard who looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties said. He was sitting on a stool at the bar, and had spun around on the sound of the Floo system. "Good to see you, you devil! Where have you been, Black?"

"Ireland – and you? I thought you were teaching in France!" Sirius bellowed, charging at the man and enveloping him in a bear hug.

"Nope. Dumbledore got in touch, needed a teacher last minute." the man said wryly.

"Vector – meet Marcus, my. . . .what was it now?"

"Third cousin, once removed," Harry muttered.

"Ah, yes, third cousin, once removed. Never really payed much attention to my mother's lectures – or the family tree, seeing as I was blasted off it! Anyway, Marcus' parents here died when he was a baby, ended up in an orphanage in America, somehow. He's staying with me while he goes to Hogwarts."

"Marcus Black? As in – the new tutor?" Vector said.

"Yes, sir," Harry replied.

"Excellent! Dumbledore said you were brilliant. You do like Arithmancy, don't you?" Vector fired at Harrry in quick succession,.

"Yes, sir." Harry replied, a bit dazed by the. . .level of enthusiasm. . .the professor demonstrated towards what was, at best, a slightly dry subject. (Though fascinating).

"Good, good. You and I will have to chat –"

"Just not now, Vector," Sirius interjected. "Harry must be getting to the Express. Good seeing you, though!" Sirius took Harry's shoulder and guided him away from the Cauldron. "That's Antony Vector," Sirius muttered to him. "Got me and James out of a couple of tight spots with our Arithmancy homework. Bit too keen though. Frightfully intelligent chap,though. Just a bit obsessed."

"Yeah," Harry said. "I kind of got the idea." Sirius chuckled at that, and called a cab.

The trip to King's Cross was quiet. It would be the first time in fifteen years that Harry would be somewhere besides Black Manor for more than a couple of days. "It won't be the same," Sirius said.

"Nope," Harry replied. "Hopefully my house-mates won't wake me up with freezing water."

"Yeah. I'm going to have to start pranking Loki, which is just no fun. Maybe I could apply for a position at Hogwarts next year," Sirius mused.

"Please, no," Harry said, pressing his hands together in mock prayer. "Anything but that! You as a teacher? That would be –"

"Scary, yeah," Sirius finished for him.

They reached King's Cross fairly quickly, and Sirius instructed Harry in how to pass the barrier. "Now, a few last words of advice, Harry. Don't let anyone give you a hard time, keep in mind that you can beat them all hands down without a wand. Secondly, make loyal friends. Friends you make here will be with you for life. Thirdly, don't let anyone bully someone else while you're around. Thirdly, obey the Marauder's code – you are the representative of the Marauder's a Hogwarts. Show them who's the best, pull plenty of pranks, and – "

" – have fun," Harry chorused with him.

"I solemnly swear – " Sirius prompted.

" – that I am up to no good. Sincerely, Marcus Black."

"Quite the prank you're pulling, _Marcus_."

"I know, Padfoot. Tell me, is that why you went to Ireland? _Paddy_?" With that as his farewell, Harry ran through the archway, and onto the platform. He jumped onto the Hogwarts express just as he saw his godfather's furious face jump out of the stone archway. Laughing to himself he walked to the back of the train, peering into compartments. The last one was empty but for one girl – he poked his head in. "Mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full."

"No, come on in," said the girl. "My name's Ginny Weasley."

"I'm Marcus Black." Harry held out his hand to her. "Nice to meet you. My uncle told me about the Weasleys."

"Oh? Did he?" Her face closed off, and Harry could best describe the look she gave him as cold. Very cold.

"A good family – the best and most loyal friends – with some of the strongest magic left in the pureblood lines."

"Oh," Ginny said, her face seemingly unable to figure out how to arrange itself. "He really said that?"

"Yeah. What were you expecting?"

"Oh more of the usual. Blood-traitors, poor, breeding like rabbits – "

"That's fairly acurate, Weaselette," came a sneering voice from outside the compartment. A boy with silvery blond hair was standing outside, a slight sneer on his face, backed by two thuggish boys with dark hair and too many muscles. "I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. You are?"

"Did I ask to be introduced to you, Malfoy?" Harry retorted, already annoyed by the boy. "Now go and leave us in peace."

"With those manners, I imagine you're a mudblood –" he was interrupted, by Harry's hand making contact with a nerve cluster on his neck.

"Don't say that word, Malfoy. Now sod off. I don't have the patience to deal with you. And my name's Black. I imagine you've heard of my family. Purer than yours, I imagine. Now go – and take your bully-boys with you." He released Malfoy, and the boy stumbled backwards.

"You haven't heard the last of me, Black," he snarled as he stalked from the compartment.

Harry laughed. "I know your type Malfoy. You're all words, mate," he spat after the boy's departing back.

Ginny chuckled. "Nice show, Marcus – but you really shouldn't let yourself get riled by him. He's been that way since first year. To be honest, it no longer bothers me. Overexposure to him, I guess."

Harry grunted. "My mother was muggleborn. I won't hear anyway using _that_ word."

Ginny looked up at him. "Was?" she said quietly.

"She died when I was one," Harry said flatly. "I'm living with my uncle now."

"I'm sorry."

"It's all right. I don't really even remember her. So. What's Hogwarts like?"

"Wait," Ginny said incredulously, "you're not a first year, are you?"

"No," Harry laughed. "I lived in America until last year."

She grinned. "America – you'll have to tell me about it. But first off – Hogwarts is amazing. It is the most magical place in the whole world. I love it." Ginny continued like that for much of the journey, describing the castle with its passageways and doors and stairs and classrooms and dormitories. "Oh – I hope you'll be in Gryffindor," she said.

"I probaby will be. My parents and uncle were," Harry replied.

The rest of the journey passed with little incident, both of them talking animatedly. A little before they arrived, though, Harry left the compartment to change into his robes. He walked a little further back, to find a bathroom at the end of the train. Humming to himself, he stepped out of it, and ran into a witch who was walking towards it. She fell to the ground and he instantly crouched down beside her. "I'm sorry," he said, "let me help you up!"

"It's all right," she muttered. "I'm used to it." Standing up, she brushed bushy hair from her face. "Hello, I'm Hermione Granger."

"Marcus Black," Harry said. "Pleased to meet you."


	4. Chapter 3 Hermione

AN: This is actually the second half of the second chapter. I'm very very sorry for the missed week — I try to update every Monday. However, school got really insane and it just wasn't possible. I will, however, try to add another chapter tomorrow as well to make up for it. Another little thing: a lot of this is of course my own interpretation of what would have happened if Harry hadn't been at Hogwarts. I may disagree with you — but I'm open to discussion. Either review (well, review anyway), or send me an e-mail at and I'd love to talk about it with you! Anyway, here goes:

**Chapter 2 (continued)**

"Marcus Black?" Hermione said. "I don't remember seeing you around — what year are you in?"

"Fifth," Harry replied. "But I haven't been to Hogwarts before -- I was homeschooled by my father in Ireland."

"Well, it is good to meet you," Hermione said, and then swayed slightly and caught herself on the side of the train. "If you wouldn't mind...?" she gestured towards the floor. Harry followed the direction she was pointing, and saw a plain black cane with a gold head on it.

"Oh, not at all, here," he said, picking it up and handing it to her. "I'm so sorry I knocked you over like that, I really didn't mean to —"

"It's quite all right," she replied. "Happens all the time. Sometimes more intentionally than others," she concluded with furrowed eyebrows. Harry could have sworn he heard her mutter "Malfoy" under her breath.

"Here," he said, "let me help you to your compartment. Where are you sitting?"

"All the way to the back," Hermione replied.

"With Ginny Weasley?"

"Yes. Do you know her?"

"Just met her," he said, holding out his arm to her on the side without the cane. "I'm sitting there too!"

They walked slowly back towards the end of the train, Hermione leaning heavily on both her cane and Harry. Harry noticed odd looks coming their way from compartments. If he had to guess, he would assume that Hermione was not the most popular girl in the school — but perhaps he was wrong.

They reached the compartment after a few minutes, and a few awkward moments running into the food trolley on the way. Harry slid open the door and helped Hermione to her seat. "Sorry to be such a bother," she said, "I can normally get around just fine. Just got a bit of a shock when -"

" - I ran into you. Yeah, I know. Sorry about that. Normally I'm quite attentive to where I'm going — though my da woud probably disagree! He keeps going on about an incident with a Christmas tree when I was twelve. I mean, honestly!" Harry leaned back in the seat, throwing his hands up. Hermione and Ginny both giggled.

"So Marcus," Ginny then said. "Got any girl back home?"

Harry laughed. "I wish! I'm afraid I've never socialised that much with people my own age. Spent most of my time with my father and Moo— Remus," he corrected himself.

"Remus Lupin?" Hermione asked.

"Yes — you know him? Wait! He taught at Hogwarts a few years back, I suppose he must've taught you."

"Best defense against the dark arts teacher we've ever had," Ginny said. "Pity he had to leave."

"Yeah. He was really happy to be teaching," Harry said. "Hasn't found a good job since. Rotten world we live in." He paused. "I don't want to pry," he said, "and if you don't want to answer, that's fine, but if it isn't too painful I was wondering -"

"Why I need to use this?" Hermione finished for him.

"Well, yeah, actually. Though that is a bit rude of me, sorry. You must get it a lot."

"Actually, no," Hermione said. "You'd be surprised how few people have actually cared, or had the courage to ask. It's pretty simple, actually. I got attacked by a troll in my first year."

"A troll."

"Yes. Kind of said, isn't it? I mean, Hogwarts is supposed to be the safest place for kids, but a troll got in. You'd think there'd be spells to keep them out. Or competent teachers. Not that I'm bitter or anything," she said darkly. "Anyway, it happened like this. I've never been. . .popular, I guess. . .but in my first year I was even less popular than I am now. In one class, a horrid boy named Ron Weasley —"

"My brother," Ginny said, "though it's times like this I'm not at all proud of him."

" — remarked on how I don't have any friends. I was upset by this — it was the first time anyone had been intentionally mean to me in this world. I mean, back home at Muggle school I was constantly teased. Bookworm with bushy hair, know-it-all attitude. I'd promised myself it wouldn't be the same here, but there it was, happening all over again. I ensconced myself in the girls' bathroom and stayed there through dinner, therebye missing the announcement that a troll'd gotten in. The teachers thought the troll was in the dungeon, but it had left and come upstairs. Apparently, it wanted to go to the girls' restroom. So. . .I got attacked by a troll. Normally, magic would set bones fairly quickly and with no trouble, but I'd gotten pretty beat up, and it was a couple hours before the teachers found me. At that point, it turned out there was only so much even magic could do. The bone in my knee is set, but weak, so I need to use this. Not that I mind too much, I mean I've never been an athlete, but still. At least I got all my education for free after that. Complete scholarship. And the cane isn't that bad either. This isn't the one I normally use — I have a magical one, that comes at my call and is light as a feather. Unfortunately, the charms were wearing off and I had to send it in for repair last week. Still haven't got it back — I would have done it myself, but my parents wanted it done by an official charms master."

"Hermione's our resident genius," Ginny remarked. "Could easily have repaired the cane — she spend all her time learning spells and other magics. I swear, she knows more about ancient rituals than Dumbledore!"

"I hardly think so," Hermione replied — though she looked somewhat pleased with the praise. "How about you, Marcus? Tell us something of your life."

"I don't know that there's much to tell," Harry responded, unsure if he could trust them with his secret. Would they be prejudiced like so many wizards? Hermione probably not, but what about Ginny? Pureblood bias ran deep. "I was homeschooled by my father for the last seven years, actually passed my NEWTS last year —"

"Really?" Hermione asked. "What were they like? Did you -"

"Deep breaths," Ginny said, before turning to Marcus. "Why are you here, then?"

"I'm actually coming as a tutor in Arithmancy, Potions, Flying, and History of Magic. Dumbledore wanted a student-aged tutor to help out with any questions students have if they don't want to go to the professor, or the professor is unavailable. I may also be filling in classes for professors in those subjects, if they can't ben there."

"Brilliant!" Ginny said, though Hermione looked thoughtful.

"If you don't mind my asking, why are you tutoring only all-theory subjects? What about practicals, like Charms and Transfiguration?"

"Well, I can help people out with theory in those subjects," Harry replied, "but the truth is. . ." and he hesitated, unsure whether to go on. But then, Hermione had trusted him with her story. ". . .I'm a squib."

"A squib?" Ginny asked. "I thought usually squibs stayed as far from the magical world as possible. . .oh, that was tactless, wasn't it?"

"A bit," Harry laughed. "Yeah, they do. We do. Thing is, I've always been obsessed with magic, and after I got over the jealousy of people who could do it, I decided to do what I can — potions, and flying, and magical theory. A bit of alchemy too, though most people don't study that anymore. Squibs have just enough magic to activate magical objects, like brooms, and magical herbs and whatnot, like in Potions. And, of course, anyone can understand the theory."

"Now, about theory, I was wondering. . ." began Hermione.

The ride continued with questions back and forth among the three, who quickly realized they would be fast friends. It wasn't long before the magnified voice of the train conductor informed them that they would soon be reaching Hogwarts. Harry stepped out of the compartment, to change into his robes. The train pulled into the station with a squealing of brakes. "You'd think," remarked Ginny, "That with all the magic people can do they'd manage to lubricate the gears on this thing. If it even has gears." Harry laughed at that.

"How do we get to the school?" he asked.

"Why, ride in the horseless carriages, of course!" said Hermione.

"Of course. Why didn't I think of that?" Harry joked back. "Seems totally logical."

"Well, it is, sort of anyway."

They continued to banter all the way to the castle, where Antony Vector was waiting. "Ah! Black!" he said excitedly. "I'm supposed to show you to the Great Hall. As Student Tutor, you can sit at whatever table you like, house or head, although for the start-of-term feast Dumbledore asked if you would sit at the head table. I'll show you to your quarters afterwards — and I was wondering if we could discuss that tricky section in Galpalott's First Rule of Arithmantic Formulae?"

"Perhaps tomorrow, Professor? I'm really beat already," Harry replied.

Vector looked disappointed, then laughed. "Of course! Silly me. I do get a bit much when I get excited. But, come along, to the tables."

Harry turned and waved to Hermione and Ginny. "I've got to go with this fellow — but I'll try to escape and see you after the feast."

"See you then," Ginny said back, waving a bit as she and Hermione walked away. Harry followed their figures with his eyes.

"So," Vector said, "which one?"

"What?" Harry asked.

"Well, which one is it? Come now, when you've been a teacher for a while you know adolescents. I'm sure you have a crush on one of them?"

Harry snorted in response. "I've only known them for a few hours."

Vector laughed. "Well, I always said that the heart was more complex than Arithmancy. And between you and me, that's saying something."

"Indeed it is. Well, let's go. I'm starving."

"Don't get too excited, Marcus. I hear the Sorting is torture."

AN: Well, there you have it. Chapter 3. I hope it doesn't seem too rushed – I just finished writing it and it is way too late. . .but I didn't want to skip this week too! Please review, I'll love you if you do, wether you have good or bad to say. One small disclaimer: I don't have a beta reader. I proofread each chapter twice, but if I miss something. . .I miss something. If you point something out, I'll probably fix it. . .just saying, some grammar and spelling may not be absolutely perfect, though I try my best. I'll attempt to post some more tomorrow, to make up for the skipped week!


	5. Chapter 4 The Sorting

**Chapter 3: The Sorting**

Harry followed Vector through the front gate into the ancient castle. The stone felt cool beneath his feet, as he prepared himself for the Sorting Ceremony. Certainly, Dumbledore would introduce him to the rest of the students, but would he reveal everything, or leave that to Harry to disclose? Harry hoped he wouldn't say anything – it would be hard enough getting used to the company of so many children, and it would be even worse if half of them were already biased against him.

They were only five minutes into the castle before Vector stopped in front of a door. "This, Harry, is the door to the staff room. The staff room is, as the name might suggest, only open to staff members. Dumbledore has given you this priviledge. So, welcome! The staff room has doors that lead into all the common rooms, as well as various classrooms and to the Great Hall. To get into the common rooms you need the room password, which is only given to certain teachers. I'm not sure if Dumbledore plans on allowing you access or not, you'll have to ask him. Anyway, I'll lead you to the Great Hall through here." Vector turned back to the door, which had formed a face out of the wood at the center of the door.

The face said, "Password?"

Vector sighed and said, "_Nunquam commoda homini lupinotuum pectinem crinalem_."

"Accepted. Enter."

The door swung open, and Vector turned to Harry. "That password was of Dumbledore's devising – it is Latin for _never let a werewolf borrow your hairbrush_. You might as well memorize it, because it doesn't get changed for another month."

"No problem," Harry replied. "My dad made me learn Latin, so it isn't a big deal."

"Really? Sirius made you learn Latin? He must have become more Black-like later on, he hated his Latin lessons as a kid."

"Partly I think he just did it to torture someone like he had been," Harry confessed.

"Now _that's_ the Sirius we know and love, eh?"

"Indeed."

"Now, before I forget why we're here, let me show you to the Great Hall. Dumbledore would be most displeased if we missed the Sorting Ceremony. Follow me." Vector strode into the staff room, and Harry followed. The room was very colorful, each of the House's colors prominently noticeable in a corner. There were numerous comfortable chairs and couches strewn apparently randomly around the room, portraits of former teachers covered the walls all the way to the high ceiling.

Vector barely glanced around the room as he strode straight across it to a green, blue, red, and yellow door at the other side. Once again a face formed, which said, "Password."

Vector responded, " 'It takes a chaotic soul to make the stars dance.' " The door paused for a moment, and then responded by swinging open. Harry followed Vector through the door, and found himself in the Great Hall to the right of the head table. Vector walked to the table and motioned Harry to the seat next to him. "Once again, a password of Dumbledore's devising. Some Muggle or another said it once. I must say, Dumbledore has probably made more than one star dance."

Harry chuckled appreciatively before falling silent and gazing out over the hall. His eyes wandered to the Gryffindor table, where he saw Hermione and Ginny sitting at the end with another girl. He gave a small wave, and saw Hermione wave back, before elbowing Ginny, who turned and grinned at him. Harry relaxed somewhat – he did already have some friends, who would stay with him even if Dumbledore chose to disclose what wasn't his right to disclose.

Dumbledore rose from his seat after a few more minutes, and clapped his hands together for silence. After the Hall had quieted, another professor walked into the hall followed by a line of young students – Harry assumed that this must be the Sorting Ceremony. Vector leaned over and whispered, "That's Minerva McGonagall. Transfiguration teacher, Head of Gryffindor, and deputy headmistress. _Don't_ cross her. I hear she's tried to put teachers in detention before!"

Harry nodded quickly. Even just from the way she walked, he could tell she was not someone to cross. She turned around and had the first years stop. A moment later, she placed a hat she was carrying on a stool that stood in front of the head table. After a moment, the hat tilted backwards (from what he'd heard, Harry assumed it was getting ready to sing its song.)

_It was a thousand years ago_

_That I was first conceived_

_It was my only job to show_

_New students where to be_

_Perhaps they'd go to Gryffindor_

_Where the brave and reckless dwell_

_Or maybe to wise Ravenclaw_

_Where the smartest will live well_

_If not, perhaps to Slytherin_

_Where live the cunning and vain_

_Or perchance to loyal Hufflepuff_

_Hard-working people, though not plain_

_And yet his year I wonder_

_If I should do my job_

_And once again sunder_

_The stundents into four_

_And yet this is why I was born_

_And so I do this now_

_But once again I warn you:_

_If you will not join together, you'll all be broken apart._

_So come to me, I sort your House, though I have not the heart._

Scattered applause sounded through the Hall, though Harry felt that most people were simply applauding out of form, and were in fact wondering what the Hat meant. But all their whispers were halted when Professor McGonagall strode forward and read the first student's name from the list. Harry barely paid attention during the Sorting, instead thought about what Sirius had said about the rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin in his day, and wondered if it was the same – or perhaps worse, as he didn't think Sirius had mentioned a warning from the Hat during his years.

After the Hat had been removed, and all the new students welcomed to their new House, Dumbledore rose from the table. "Welcome, one and all, to a new year at Hogwarts. There is a time for start-of-term announcements, but this is not it! Tuck in!" He waved a hand over the table, and food appeared on platters at both the head and house tables. Harry willingly dug in – it seemed like decades ago that he'd eaten food from the snack cart on the train. The food was everything he'd expected from what Sirius had told him. The House Elves were truly culinary geniuses, every dish cooked to perfection. In fact, Harry lost himself so much in his meal that he spoke to no one the entire time, and barely noticed Dumbledore standing up again.

"Attention, please," he said, and slowly silence made its way across the hall. "Again, welcome to a new year at Hogwarts. I have a few start-of-term announcements. First of all, the Forbidden Forest remains forbidden, and it would be useful for our new students (as well as some of our old) to take note of that. Mister Filch has added some twenty items to the list of forbidden objects, I recommend perusing the list on his office door at your leisure. Quidditch tryouts will be starting on the second Friday of term, and will be going through Sunday. If you wish to try out for your house team, I recommend talking to Madam Hooch about the schedule and sign-up list. Due to certain. . ._accidents_ on the field last year, third year and up _only_ will be allowed to try out. In other news, I'd like you to welcome your new Professor of Arithmany, Arcturus Vector." A fair amount of applause sounded from some people around the hall, though Harry noted that it lacked enthusiasm. Arithmancy had never been that popular. "Also, please welcome your new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, William Weasley." This got quite a bit of applause, mostly from the Gryffindor table, where, from what Harry heard from Sirius, one could assume that many Weasley's sat. "Also, please welcome your new Student Tutor, Marcus Black. He will be available for individual and group tutoring sessions, please refer to the sheets posted on your common room board. Now, Prefects, please lead your students to your dormitories. Students, remember that curfew is at eight o'clock this year. That is all." With that, Dumbledore sat down.

"Eight o'clock? That's fairly early, isn't it?" Harry asked Vector.

"Perhaps there are some things you are unaware of, Marcus," Dumbledore said in reply. "It is my sad duty to bring you up to speed on recent Hogwarts history. There has always been a fair amount of rivalry between houses, particularly Gryffindor and Slytherin. However, it has generally been mere mischief, pranks, and so forth. Recently, it has escalated to something much greater. It started as just a rivalry between two boys, Ronald Weasley and Draco Malfoy. Each of them started at Hogwarts four years ago, and apparently had an altercation on the train-ride to school. Unfortunately, each of them has a certain. . .charisma. The ability to make others follow their lead. During their first year, the rivalry was limited to them and a small circle of friends. In their second year, they both made their House Quidditch teams, and the other team members – including Mr. Weasley's older brothers, Fred and George, were roped into the developing enmity.

"Later on in that year, Mr Weasley caught Mr. Malfoy slipping an enchanted diary into his younger sister, Ginny's, things. Since he was the only witness, it was never proved either way, as it is illegal to give a minor Veritaserum. However, the diary was determined to be a very dangerous magical artifact, a Horcrux, created by Voldemort. You know what a Horcrux is?"

"Part of someone's soul, split from the rest of it and imprisoned in an object by an unkown Dark ritual," Harry replied automatically.

"Very good," Dumbledore responded. "Sadly, it seems that Voldemort discovered the ritual, and created Horcruxes. The diary was one, and I have since discovered and destroyed the others. However, to the point, this discovery completed turned Gryffindor against Slytherin. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff have both become split, some members joining the Gryffindor side, some the Slytherin. It continued to escalate through these boys third year at Hogwarts, though with little actual conflict to show for it. In their fourth year, however, Mr Malfoy placed a deadly viper in Mr Weasley's friend, Seamus Finnigan's, bed. He was seen sneaking into Gryffindor tower by an impartial witness, although it could not technically be proved that he had placed the viper there. Mr Weasley retaliated by hexing Mr. Malfoy in the middle of the entrace hall. Various students joined the fight, and it eventually took three teachers and myself to stop the fight. One student, Luna Lovegood, was injured to the point where she had to spend a month in St. Mungo's. She is, thankfully, fully recovered. However, it was a close thing. This year, we hope to find a way to diffuse the enmity of these two students, especially because if it continues, they by the time they are Seventh Years, this whole school will be at war."

"This has happened once before," came the sharp tones of Professor McGonagall, "and we all know how that ended."

"How?" Vector asked.

"With Salazar Slytherin's removal from the castle."


	6. Chapter 5 Parselmagyck

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Do not sue me. I have no money, I just have fun writing.

A/N: SORRY! I wish it hadn't been a week late, too! It took me a long time to figure out where the story was going, and I hope it doesn't move too fast. . .but in the end I felt this was best.

**Chapter 6: Parselmagick**

The next day, Harry's alarm woke him at seven in the morning. Groaning, he rolled over and pounded the snooze button on the Magickal Alarme Clocke that Sirius had bought him. _Damn Hogwarts and its resistance to electricity_, Harry grumbled to himself. He had his own, muggle alarm clock at home which turned straight to the alternative rock station on its radio at 7:45 every morning. None of these. . . Augurey Call Wake-Ups, or something like that. Dismal morning.

He stood up and stepped into a pair of pants, pulling the draw-string tight. A black muscle shirt followed, before he walked into the bathroom and splashed cold water all over his head. A moment later, he heard something collide with the bathroom door. Walking over, he opened the door slowly. A paper airplane flew into the room and unfurled itself, folding into a mouth. Dumbledore's voice came from it. "Ah! Mr Black, it appears you are awake. If you wouldn't mind coming to my office at eight o-clock this morning, we need to discuss your schedule and a few things of more. . .personal import."

Harry grunted in response, and the airplane folded back together and flew away. Harry normally began his day with an hour of running and weight-lifting, followed by some martial-arts training, but he could see he would have to forgo that. _An early breakfast it is_, he thought, walking out of the room and down the hallway. He found his way to the staff room, and the gargoyle in front let him in with some minor grumbling about under-age staff members. Finding the door to the Great Hall, he intoned the password, and walked in.

"Hello, Mr. Black," a silky voice said from the Head Table. "I wouldn't have thought that Sirius would have found someone willing to mate with him. Although I suppose money does buy everything.'

"Mr Snape," Harry began, but was interrupted.

"Professor Snape, Black."

"In which case, that would be Student Tutor Black, Professor. And it would appear that the intellegence of your insults has not improved from your school-days. Dear me, I'd expect at least some more. . .maturity, but I guess you never really had a chance?"

"Show more respect, Student Tutor!"

Harry chuckled. "Dad tells me that daily, never did work. TTYL, Professor!"

The acronym seemed to stump Snape, Harry realized as he walked towards the Gryffindor table, where he saw Hermione eating. Clearly, wizards with no knowledge of the Internet would have no clue about internet-isms, or SMS abbreviations. Harry wondered what chaos he could cause with staff memos. . .

"Good morning, Marcus," Hermione said when he slid onto the bench next to her. "Nice to see someone else up at this hour – normally Ginny joins me for an early breakfast, but she had to go meet a friend from Ravenclaw today."

"How goes it in the House of the Lion?"

"Same old, same old. Ronald Weasley is a prat, the whole house follows him like a god, even the older years…a few of us respectfully and quietly disagree and go our own way. Not really the family McGonagall talks about, but. . ." she slowly spread jam over her toast. "How are your quarters?"

"Excellent," Harry said. "I have a bedroom, a living room, a dining room, a kitchen, and a bathroom all to myself. It's like a complete flat – though a bit small after living in the Black house."

"How big is that? I've heard you Blacks are filthy rich," Hermione said.

"Big. Really big. I'll take you there over Christmas or something, you've got to see the lake outside during the winter – heaven, I tell you, heaven!" Harry reached over and grabbed a muffin and a goblet of pumpkin juice. "What's your first class?"

Hermione handed him her schedule. "Transfiguration, Double Potions, and Arithmancy today, I see. You have a pretty full schedule. . ."

"Nothing like my third year," Hermione said, grinning. "That year I had to use a Time Turner to get to all my classes. It was totally ridiculous!"

"A Time Turner? That's insane – who allowed you to do that?"

"McGonagall," she replied, " – surprisingly enough."

"McGonagall! I can't believe it – what did you do to get her on your side?"

"Paid attention in class, got a hundred percent on every exam –"

"Basically being a teacher's pet,"

"Yeah – hey! What do you mean, a teacher's pet?" Hermione asked leaning threateningly towards Harry, an evil look in her eyes.

"Look, I'd love to explain, but I have a meeting with the Headmaster! TTFN," Harry said, as he jumped over the table and raced out of the room. That girl was scary.

Harry walked up to the gargoyle in front of the Headmaster's office, and cleared his throat. Shifting from foot to foot, he wondered how to get up into the office. His wonderment ceased when the gargoyle shifted to the side, and motioned him forward. "Headmaster awaits," it croaked. Harry stepped onto a spiral staircase that slowly raised him up into the air. It stopped in front of an old wooden door with a knocker. Lifting the knocker, Harry let go and it fell with a resounding smash. The door swung open, and Harry stepped into the round room. It was filled with objects stacked all over the floor, desks and shelves. "Headmaster?" he called out in a low voice.

"Ah! Marcus! There you are," Dumbledore said, appearing out of no where. "I was hoping you'd got my note. Now, to business. Here," he said, handing Harry a long sheet of parchment, "is a schedule. When a student, or several students, sign up for tutoring on the similar parchments in their common rooms, yours will update. You have the option to accept or reject the appointment – but that must be done within three hours after the student has signed up. Now, if that is all in order, I am brought to the more personal reason for this meeting."

At that, Dumbledore turned around, and walked away, gesturing for Harry to follow him. A wall opened up in front of the Headmaster, revealing a small room off the main office. The room was covered in books – books all over shelves from floor to ceiling, two desks, the floor, a few even floating in the air. The headmaster paused for a moment, then snapped his fingers. A wooden box flew off a shelf and land in the Headmaster's outstretched palm. "Here it is!" he exclaimed, turning towards Harry. "Now, Harry, this box is for you. Your father left it with me, to give to you at any time between your fifteenth and sixteenth birthdays. I apologize that you did not receive it from me sooner, unfortunately the month of August is simply exceedingly busy for me, as the Headmaster of a school. But I hope you will not be too angry, and will make an attempt at opening it. Your father was most insistent that you have it."

Harry reached out and took the box – it was light, about the size of an ear-ring box, or some such thing. "Thank you, Headmaster," Harry whispered. Something his father had wanted him to have. "What do you mean, make an attempt?"

"Well, it can only be opened, as James put it to me, by its rightful owner, and even then only if the owner speaks the password. I could never open it, he said, but he thought you might. I hope whatever you find might be useful. Now, I'm afraid I am extraordinarily busy today, so you'll have to excuse me if I see you out the door now. I hope you receive many pupils today!"

Unfortunately, the headmaster's hope was unfounded – not a single student signed up for tutoring that day – which Harry didn't find too surprising. After all, who would need tutoring the first day of term? So it was after a fairly boring day that Harry found himself in his quarters, staring at the box in front of him.

"How to open you," he muttered to himself. "_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good_," he tried, using the password for the Marauder's Map that his father and Sirius had made in their school years. No luck.

He placed the box down and was about to stand up, when he saw a portion of the box lightening in color. As he watched, an animated image of a green snake appeared on the top of the box. "_Speak the password_," the snake said to him.

Harry said again, "_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good_," assuming that what had worked the first time would this time as well.

The snake disappeared into the box, turning the entire box green in the process. It glowed for a second, and then grew several times until it was the size of a school trunk. Harry reacahed forward and unlatched it, finding a cloth covering whatever was in the trunk, with one book resting on top.

It was an old book, bound in leather, with tattered pages. He opened it, and saw the first page covered in strange, curly sigils. He blinked his eyes, and as they blurred he saw the letters disappear. "_What is this?"_ he muttered, and before his eyes, words drew themselves into the page.

_A Fulle and Complet Guyde to Parselmagyck_

_by Adrian Potter_

_With aid from his friend, Emrys Merlin_

_And additions by other Potters of his line_

A leaf of paper fell out of the book. Harry picked it up and began to read.

_Dear Son,_

_If you are reading this, then I am dead. I am sorry you had to grow up without me and your mother, but I hope that Sirius has raised you well. We have known since you were born that you are a Squib – don't worry, we don't hold it against you. Besides the fact that you are our son, Squibs among the Potter line hold more power than most wizards. You can read this, and the book it was placed in, because you are a Parselmouth – a speaker to snakes. Most wizards don't realize that the ability to speak Parseltongue comes with the greater ability to perform Parselmagyck, an obscure branch of magic discovered, and in part created, by the Potter family. Study well the use of this magic, I only wish I was there to guide you in it, for it is a dangerous study. All Potters have been Parselmouths – it is our greatest secret. Do not disclose this to any but your soul-mate, should you, like me, have the good fortune to meet her._

_This must be short, we are about to cast the Fidelius and go into hiding. Do not mourn us much, and know that we love you will all of our heart. Be well, and use this power wisely. We love you, son._

_James (and Lily)_

Harry let the letter drop. "_Parselmagyck_," he breathed, it what he could now discern as a hiss. Then suddenly he jumped up. "I can do magic," he said aloud. "I, Harry James Potter, can do magic!" Tears dropped from his eyes as he hugged the letter to him. _I love you, Dad, Mum. Thank you. Thank you so much for this._

A/N: Hi there! Hope you liked the chapter! Expect a new one sooner than my usual week, because I feel guilty over the ultimate lateness of this one! Also, expect possibly a new story from me to start soon. Oh, and review! Much thanks to my reviewer of the last chapter, **The King 43 Richard Petty**, and also thanks to all the wonderful people who read my story! Tell me what you think, even if you hate it.


	7. Chapter 6 Dreamwalking

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

** AN: **I hope you enjoy this chapter! A bit early, for all your reviewers, though it is slightly shorty. Thanks to Juliette Fox, Tristan Cartier, thegriffin97, The King 43 Richard Petty, The French Dark Lord, and Ginny's Biggest Fan for reviewing (and such nice reviews, too!) If you enjoy this chapter, feel free to review. Also, if you have an opinion on whether or not Harry should tell Sirius about this, let me know. I know that James told him only to tell his future soul-mate in the letter, but. . .Sirius is practically Harry's father, so. Should he? Or not? Enjoy the update! (Oh, and it is officially over 10,000 words now. Yay!)

**Chapter 6: Dreamwalker**

The next day Harry woke up early. Once again, he decided to forgo his physical training, but this time for something far more important. After quickly dressing in sweats and a t-shirt, he walked over the box and hissed: _I solemnly swear that I am up to no good_. The box opened, and he picked up the book. Flipping to the first page, he started to read.

_Welcome, student, to the study of Parselmagick. This book is divided into five main sections, each of those sections also divided into five. Only one of the five main sections will be of use to you, depending on your choice. Each Parselmouth has the ability to use the magic of one type of Parselmagic. These are those of the Dreamwalker, the Warrior, the Necromancer, the Sorcerer, and the Shapeshifter. Before you begin your study of Parselmagick, you must select one of these areas to study. After starting your study in it, all other areas will be closed off to you. To aid you in your decision, I will list below the advantages and disadvantages (as I see it) of each trade._

_**The Necromancer**_

_The Necromancer has the ability to travel to the world of the Dead, and converse with spirits that have passed beyond. However, a Necromancer cannot bring them back to life. A Necromancer can re-animate dead flesh, or entrap living souls into inanimate objects, or separate someone's soul from their body. However, in order to become a Necromancer, the Parselmouth is forced to give up his or her voice, that he or she may speak with those no longer living. This is a calling only for those who are willing to sacrifice much for it._

_**The Warrior**_

_This calling is for those who wish to fight with Parselmagic. While it is true that there are no Parselmagick "spells" to be thrown at opponents, the Warrior uses Parselmagick to enhance his body, armor, and weapons. Learning rituals to enhance speed, strength, and endurance, as well as warding and protecting objects and people. The Warrior's weapons will be covered in runes to enhance sharpness, burn upon contact, never break, and other specialties. However, the Warrior must give up their other magic to achieve the bodily strength necessary to survive the rituals. (This calling is impossible to achieve for Squibs, who have no magic to sacrifice besides their Parselmagick, which is necessary to keep, obviously._

_**The Dreamwalker**_

_The Dreamwalker is one of the rarest-seen Parselmagicks. A Dreamwalker has the ability to enter the World of Dreams while asleep, call objects from the World of Dreams, enter the World of Dreams in body while awake, cast illusions, see spirits and other creatures that are impossible to see otherwise, and foretell the future. Dreamwalkers also have the power to cast wards around people and objects, using the Dreamworld to confuse, harm, or transport people elsewhere. Without a doubt one of the more powerful Parselmagicks, few choose this route because it requires you to sacrifice your ability to dream. When asleep, you either enter the World of Dreams fully in control of yourself and the world around you, or a dreamless sleep. Few are willing to part with their dreams._

_**The Sorcerer**_

_The Sorcerer has the ability to call upon and control the elements. Weather-working is a small portion of this talent, Sorcerers are also able to merge themselves with an element, and travel through wind, water, fire, and earth. Sorcerers also have strong healing powers, and are useful as fighters. They sacrifice their eyes to access this power, going forever blind. They are able to sense things around them by use of the elements, but will never truly see again._

_**The Shapeshifter**_

_The Shapeshifter is the least powerful of the Parselmagicks according to many, but is in fact just as powerful, however in a limited scope. The Shapeshifter has the ability to see through the eyes of animals, talk to them, transform into their shapes. There is no concrete sacrifice required to use this power, although many Shapeshifters have reported a loss of connection to other humans, the inability to communicate with other people, therefore living as hermits in forests, talking only to creatures._

_Take as much time as necessary to decide which of these callings is yours. Once you have decided, take the quill from the spine of the book and write your choice below these words. The quill will use your own blood to write, and is a binding magical oath. You will be required to complete your training, and will never be able to train in any other form of Parselmagick ever again. I wish you luck, my descendant. Happy hunting._

Harry stopped reading and flipped over on his back. He hadn't thought he'd have to decide between forms of magic, and sacrifice anything as important as what he now knew he'd have to. _Why couldn't my magic be like everyone else's?_ he asked himself. Normal witches and wizards didn't need to sacrifice their senses, their humanity, or their dreams. _I guess I never will be normal, will I?_

He reached for some paper and a pen. After fiddling with the pen, he began to write.

_Things to decide. _

_Firstly, do I want to learn Parselmagick? _

_Yes. Of course yes. It has been my dream since I was old enough to understand what magic was, and what I couldn't do, to learn magic. Now that I know I can, I would never forgive myself if I turned my back on it._

_So the only thing left to decide is: which to learn? _

_**The Warrior**__ is out of the question._

_Ditto __**The Sorcerer**__. I could never give up my sight._

_Equally __**The Necromancer**__. As much as I'd like to talk with my parents again, at least now I know I will when I die (there is, after all, a world of the dead). They wouldn't want me to give up my voice, and spend my life playing with people's souls. Though it is tempting. I guess I'll leave this one for later._

_**The Shapeshifter**__ is tempting, since Da and Sirius are Animagi. But I've lived my whole life with so few friends, do I want to condemn myself to being a hermit forever?_

_**The Dreamwalker**__. Now this one is tempting. To be able to see the future, protect things, walk in dreams, conjure things. And all I have to give up is dreams, and let's face it, do I really need to dream of my parent's death more?_

The choice was between Necromancy and Dreamwalking, and Harry couldn't decide. If he chose Dreamwalking, he'd give up any chance of speaking to his parents before he died – but until today, he didn't think there was a chance. Could he do it? If he chose Necromancy, he'd be able to talk to them, but what else could he do? Reanimating dead people was disgusting, and playing with people's souls was something Voldemort did.

Harry reached a decision in that split second, and picked up the quill before he could doubt himself again. Flipping the book open, he wrote one word in his own blood.

**Dreamwalker.**

The book starting glowing green, as his words in blood sank into the page. His hand stung, and he saw on the back of it what looked like a tattoo, saying_Dreamwalker._ He'd done it. Pages in the book starting flipping back and forth, until finally it settled down and he began to read.

_The path of the Dreamwalker is in five paths._

_The first path in the path of Dreaming is called the Sleeping Dream. In this, you will learn how to enter the World of dreams in your sleep. First you will learn how to travel the Dreamworld, then how to manipulate it. Finally you will learn how to find a specific person's dreams, enter them, and finally speak to them in their dreams._

_The second path in the path of Dreaming is called the Waking Dream. In this path, you will learn how to enter the World of Dreams while awake, travel within it, and leave it elsewhere. You will learn how to find people's minds who are asleep at that time, and enter their dreams in body. This is the easiest way to kill with Dreamwalking._

_The third path in the path of Dreaming is called the Waking Mind. You will learn how to find the minds of those who are awake, enter them, and see their past. You will learn how to talk with people through your mind, sending them thoughts and images, and receiving them back._

_The fourth path in the path of Dreaming is called the Guarded Soul. In this, you will learn how to guard your own mind from intrusion both awake and asleep. You will also learn how to use Dreamwalking to spin illusions in the waking world, and lay traps that use the Dreamworld to guard an object, person, or soul._

_The fifth path in the path of Dreaming is called the Open Path. In this Path you learn how see the paths of the future, and see what will happen if a road is followed, or if it is not. You will learn to see visions of what may come, and also visions of what has come. Time has no meaning to an Adept of the Open Path._

_You may choose to study only one of these paths, or you may choose to study all. They are listed in order of difficulty, and it is advised to learn at least in part all the paths before the one you choose to specialize in. When you have learned all that it is possible for this book to teach you of a path, you are known as an Adept of that path. The few who become Adepts of all the paths are known as Adepts of the Five Paths of Dreamwalking, or simply as Adepts._

_To begin learning the Sleeping Dream, turn this page. I wish you luck, Dreamwalker. _

Harry finished reading it and slowly lowered the book down. He walked over to his window, and looked outside. The sun was shining through one of the hoops on the Quidditch pitch. Harry placed a hand against the window and whispered to the sun: _I'll make you proud of me, Dad. I will study each of the paths, and be an Adept of each. You will be proud of me._

And far away, in another world entirely, a man whisprered: _I already am_.


	8. Chapter 7 Students and Sleeping Dream

A/N: I'm SO SORRY for the giant delay in updates! The theater company I direct had production week for a play, with performances basically every day. Then came Thanksgiving, jobhunting, and all sorts of nastiness. I've got a head cold now, so I'm sorry this update is so short, but I really should be off to bed – just had to give you guys something! This story is now over 30 pages long (without author notes) – which makes it the longest thing I've ever written. Thanks so much to Juliette Fox, Ginny's Biggest Fan, WuHaoNi, and The French Dark Lord for your reviews (and awesome ones, too!) If you like, or don't like, this chapter, please review!

**Chapter 7: Students and the Sleeping Dream**

Harry stayed up late into the night, reading about the Sleeping Dream. This particular path seemed fairly easy – all that was required was sleeping and being able to form a body for oneself in the World of Dreams, or bend the World to one's will. Harry had been meditating for many years as part of his martial arts, and hoped that this would be fairly easy to achieve.

Of course, that was only the most basic step of the Sleeping Dream. Various techniques were required for proper safety and use of the Dreamworld. The book spoke quite a bit about Spinning of Dreamwebs, and only said that a section about that would appear in the book after it sensed that he had taken the first step of creating a form for himself in the Dreamworld, and maintaining control over it.

After he finished reading what the book provided on this first step, Harry was eager to sleep. Unfortunately, for several hours he lay awake, his mind too active with thought about all he had learned, and how much his life had changed over the past day, to let him sleep. At last, at around two or three in the morning, he drifted off to sleep….

…And found himself not asleep, but awake and insubstantial in what appeared to be his room. The book had warned him that until he learned to stop himself halfway between the waking world and the Dreamworld, he would always appear in the room he fell asleep in, or rather its dream copy.

Concentrating, Harry began to think about himself. Imagining his body, he willed his spirit into that form, and was disappointed to see that nothing happened. Sighing mentally, he tried again. And again. After what seemed like hours, he felt his spirit being moulded into shape. "Yes!" he shouted, or rather, tried to shout. Nothing came out of his mouth, and he turned in puzzlement to the mirror. He had no mouth. His body was all out of proportion, he only had one eye, and. . . ._Oh my god! Is that my hair?_ He thought. Clearly he hadn't concentrated hard enough.

It was going to be a long night.

The next morning, when he awoke, he was surprised to find his body fully rested and awake. Surprised, because his mind felt like he had been up all night. Which, in fairness, it had. Flipping the book open, he found the part about sleeping. "_It is advised to all Dreamwalkers to take at least three or four nights a week for dreamless sleep, otherwise their mind is liable to shut down of its own accord to make up for lost time_." That would explain it.

He got dressed slowly, contemplating the somewhat succesful, somewhat disastrous night. He'd been able to get himself into his own body finally, but as his mind shifted off of it his clothes would change, or eye color, or something else. It appeared that in order to maintain his shape, some part of his mind had to remain concentrated on his appearance. The book stated that this discipline took a long time to master, and that many apprentice Dreamwalkers prefer to simple remain hidden. However, in order to be a true Adept and use all the powers of the Sleeping Dream, this was necessary.

Running a hair-brush through his hair, he once again cursed his oft-cursed legacy of tangled, messy hair. _If I could only inherit one this from Mum, _he thought, throwing his hands in the air, accidentally send the brush flying, _why couldn't it have been her nice, straight, calm hair?_

Walking over to his desk, he checked the schedule. Happily enough, several people had signed up for tutoring. He knew that if he was allowed to, he'd obsess over Dreamwalking and burn out. Not that it made him any happier that he'd be taken away from the study of the magic he was, at last, allowed to do.

Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, Ron Weasley, and Seamus Finnegan had signed up from Gryffindor for Transfiguration review. Ginny Weasley was a different year than the others, but Harry figured that he could still do them all at once, just have to separate the tutoring somewhat. A couple Ravenclaws had signed up, and one Hufflepuff. No Slytherins yet.

The Gryffindors he'd be meeting in his tutoring room at 11:30. He had about an hour to get ready. The fifth years were studying Vanishing. Harry grinned. It wasn't a particularly difficult theoretical subject, but it did require a certain amount of knowledge about how the world was put together with magic. The fourth years were learning animal to object transfigurations, which shouldn't be too difficult to explain. Nothing like the reverse.

11:30 came fairly quickly. Harry walked out of his rooms and down the corridor. When he stepped inside, two of the students were already there. One was Hermione, and the other (by the red hair, and, yes, the expression of Hermione's face) he presumed was Ron Weasley. Moments later, Ginny came in and waved to him, followed by a boy who could only be Seamus Finnegan.

Harry stood up and said, "Hello everyone. Thanks for signing up for tutoring! I already know who you all are, if you don't know, I'm Marcus Ilmarinen Black. I figured how we could do this, is you could explain to me what you're learning, and then I can figure out what you need to study. So, why don't we start with Ginny, because her stuff will be good review for you sixth-years."

"Me?" Ginny said.

"Is there another Ginny here?" Harry joked back.

"Um. All right. Sure. Well, we're learning animal to object transformations. The theory is that. . .well. Basically it is all about. . . .hell, I have no clue!"

Harry grinned. "Fair enough. The difficult part of this transformation is the life matrix, because, of course, an object is inanimate, whereas an animal. . ."

An hour later, Ron and Seamus left looking somewhat less confused, but still not totally clear. Hermione and Ginny hung behind. "So how's the first couple days been?" Harry asked.

"Pretty good," Hermione said. "Snape was unbearable, but what else is new. All the teachers are piling homework on already, because fifth is OWL year. Ginny here has some good news though."

"Yeah?" Harry asked.

"I got onto the Quidditch team. You are looking at the new striker-position Chaser," Ginny said, patting herself on the back.

"Good job," Harry said, wondering if Dumbledore had really meant it when he'd said Harry could try out for a House team. He made a mental note to ask. "Shall we three go to lunch?"

"Sure," Hermione said.

"Why not?" Ginny said. "Hermione and I usually sit together anyway. You'll just have to put up with all our girly talk!"

"Oh no!" Harry exclaimed in mock horror, throwing up crossed fingers. "Away Evilness!"

"Are you saying we're evil?" Hermione said with a grin, taking one of his arms.

"You know, Trelawney was talking about self-fulfilling prophecies," Ginny said, grabbing the other arm.

"I think a certain boy has a tickle war coming at him. Drag onward!" And with that, the two girls dragged a mock-struggling and screaming Harry down the halls to lunch.

The rest of the day passed slowly. The Ravenclaws had apparently only signed up to show off their own erudition, not actually learn anything from him. The Hufflepuff was quite smart, but was made for something other than Arithmantic theory. At long last, Harry collapsed in his room, eager to study more Dreamwalking.

He flipped the book open to the page on Spinning the Dreamweb. Apparently, everything in the dream world was connected by a giant web. Various things were related in different ways, and manipulating the Dreamworld was based on understand these various connections, something which could be studied, but was mostly a matter of instinct and experience. These webs were also why dreams, real dreams, changed so randomly. The dream would hit a web that would pull it to a related, but possibly distant topic. It was fascinating, and Harry could not wait to try it out in practice.

He sat down on his bed, before getting up and going to his desk. Pulling a sheet of paper over, he started a letter.

_Dear Sirius,_

_Life here at Hogwarts is going well. I've done some tutoring, though, to be honest, I think most people just need to pay more attention in class. Dumbledore has been elusively mysterious as usual. I wonder if he really is this. . .harmless? benign? senile?...or if it is just an act. I assume it must be an act, but why?_

_Anyway, I've made a couple friends. Hermione Granger and Ginevra Weasley. I met them both on the train, and we've hung out quite a bit._

He paused, wondering whether to tell Sirius about Parselmagick. _Not yet_, he decided. _The book said not too. I'll wait till I know more_. He continued the letter:

_There's another thing I should tell you about, but that'll have to be saved for later._

_I haven't pulled any pranks yet, but don't worry, the Marauders will ride again soon!_

_Looking forward to a visit (hint hint!)_

_Marcus Ilmarinen_

There. Sirius would probably think he had a crush or something. Signing the letter, Harry sealed it and handed it to Hedwig, who flew out the window after snagging an Owl Treat or two. Or three. Sometimes Harry wondered how that bird still got in the air. _Pampered brat_, he thought to himself, before curling up in bed, waiting for the Dreamworld to welcome him.

As he felt sleep welling up, he smiled.

A smile of pure magic.

A/N: Cheesy ending! I know! Couldn't help it. I know there wasn't a lot of action in this chapter, but I've already written half of the next, so it should be up this Wednesday or Friday at the latest. You guys are all awesome, thanks so much for reading my story! Review if you have the chance, I read every single one!


	9. Chapter 8 The Waking Mind part 1

**A/N: **Sorry it is a bit of a short update, but I wanted to get something up for you guys!

The French Dark Lord: Hey, thanks for the review! I have, in fact, read some of the Sword of Truth (the first two or three books, through Blood of the Fold, I think). I hadn't thought at all about similarities between Jagang and my Dreamwalker, though I can see some. I've tried, in this chapter, to make them more different, though I just reread it and they seem a bit similar. I was mostly worried about making the Dreamworld too much like Tel'aran'rhiod from Wheel of Time, to tell the truth. Oh, and it was the whole story that was 30 pages, not the chapter. Sorry for not making that clear.

Ginny's Biggest Fan: Awesome -- I'm so glad you are enjoying the story! Just for you, I managed to get a bit of Ginny into this chapter. HG romance was supposed to come later, but, hey, it kinda worked.

JulietteFox: Glad you like it :-) Hope you continue to!

**Chapter 8: The Waking Mind part 1  
**

"_Bulbaseo!"_Harry heard someone shout further along the corridor he was walking along. Another voiced called "_Protego_" and then "_Stupefy!"_ Quickening his pace, Harry rushed down the corridor. He had been at Hogwarts for a month, and had yet to witness any of the legendary Gryffindor/Slytherin fights, but he was fairly certain that this was one of them. What he would do when he got there, he wasn't sure. He hadn't yet mastered the Sleeping Dream fully, but had started working on the Waking Dream and on the Waking Mind, though both of those he was still a beginner. Certainly, he was not yet skilled enough at the Waking Mind to stop one of the students from casting spells. Still, someone had to do something.

When he appeared on the scene, he found a circle of Gryffindors and Slytherins, with a smattering of the other houses, surrounding two students: Weasley and Malfoy. The both had cuts and bruises on their bodies, though had apparently succesfully deflected the worst spells. "All right!" Harry shouted. "Break it up, both of you, or you'll be in detention for the rest of the year!" They both glanced at him and sneered. Clearly, their House rivalry was more important than the detention. "You don't want me to half to break it up myself," Harry said warningly.

"And what would you do, mudblood?" Malfoy snapped at him.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I'll have you know that the blood of the House of Black is as pure as that of any Malfoy, not that it matters."

Weasley opened his mouth to say something, and Malfoy took the distraction as an opening, attacking with _Tsorbae_, a vicious cutting hex. Harry knocked Ron out of the way. "You realize that would have killed him, had it connected?" he hissed to Malfoy. "But you might want to break this up, because there's Dumbledore." Harry watched Malfoy's eyes, and the instant they flicked towards the doorway Harry had gestured towards, Harry hit him in a cluster of nerves near his neck, effectively paralyzing the boy. Turning around, he dealt a similar blow to Weasley. "All right, everyone." he said. "I just have a few words to say to you all. This is pathetic. Gryffindors -- bravery and nobility have nothing to do with provoking duels. Slytherins, you are the purebloods. You are the ancient and the noble, those with cunning and intelligence. I'd expect more brains and less brawn. Thank God the Founders aren't here to see that even a thousand years later, wizards are still fighting the same war. A thousand years, people! Don't you think it is time to get over it? Now, all of you, go back to your dormitories and stay there. I'll take these two to the Hospital Wing." Harry grabbed the two of them by their jackets and dragged them down the hallways. Muttering, the two bodies of students began making their way back to the dorms.

After dropping the two students at the Hospital Wing, Harry made his way to Dumbledore's office. He knocked, and Dumbledore called for him to come in. After he'd seated himself, the Headmaster spoke. "You handled that admirably, Marcus. I could not have done better myself. Perhaps your words will convince some."

"Has it been this bad before?" Harry asked. "They were trying to kill each other."

"Only once before, that we know of, has a simple rivalry gotten this bad, not counting the days of the Founders. There was a time when Tom Marvolo Riddle was in Slytherin, and Parsifal Potter was in Gryffindor -- your great-uncle, I believe. There's was a rivalry to match, and indeed, exceed that of Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy. The problems in the school ended when they left, but they continued attacking each-other in the years to follow, until Riddle renamed himself Lord Voldemort, and Parsifal Potter became the Minster for Magic, for a brief two weeks until he was, mysteriously, murdered." Dumbledore was silent for a few minutes. "The Slytherin vs Gryffindor Quidditch game is the first of the season, and will be taking place in two weeks. I know I told you you could try out for a team, but I felt that perhaps we would be better off with you as referee. Madam Hooch is, alas, growing older, and I fear she would hesitate to use force to ensure fairness on the pitch. She herself requested that I find someone else."

"I'll do it," Harry said, not knowing how he'd enforce fairness, unless he managed to master the Waking Mind in the next two weeks (a feat, the book told him, that had never been matched. The fastest that particular discipline had been mastered was in one month, and that was by Merlin himself.)

That night found Harry desperately studying the chapters on the Waking Mind. This was, supposedly, the easiest branch of Dreamwalking, requiring only a small amount of magic, an incantation in Parseltongue, and meditation. Harry had been able to catch wisps of thoughts from various people over the course of the day, but to actually enter someone's mind and alter their actions was an entirely different matter.

If he were to need to change something during the game, he'd have to keep his mind open to fourteen separate people, and be able to change their decisions during a fast-paced game, where many decisions are instinct, and thus as quick as thought. At least, since he was a Dreamwalker, he could do some extra studying in his sleep, but still, there were only fourteen days until the match.

A week later found Harry able to enter someone's mind completely. He always felt somewhat dirty after doing so, as if he had done something wrong -- and, he supposed, so he had. So far he hadn't been able to bring himself to change someone's actions. But he knew he'd have to to be able to referee the game.

Three days later he had the opportunity to practice altering someone's mind. He had been practicing open listening -- basically, letting people's thoughts filter through his brain at will as he did other things. Very distracting, but highly profitable, as he found when he noticed someone thinking about a prank they were going to pull on the new student tutor. He honed in on the thought, and found that Vincent Crabbe, one of Malfoy's shoulder-strikers, was going to set off a bunch of dung-bombs in his room. He looked carefully and the web in Crabbe's mind, and found the thread's connecting the prank and him and his room. Gently, he severed the threads and moved them so they connected to Professor Snape and his classroom, and then hurried towards the dungeons to see what happened. The sixth year class was learning about dream potions, ironically enough, and Harry watched as Crabbe subtly tossed a dung-bomb across the room, into the Gryffindors. _Oops_, Harry thought, _should have kept monitoring his thoughts_. Moments later, it exploded, and Harry raced away, grinning. He wasn't sure if it was morally right or wrong, but _damn_ had that been fun.

That night at dinner, he was also letting people's thoughts sift through his mind. A stray thought caught his attention. One of the Slytherins had slipped an aphrodisiac into the Gryffindor's pumpkin juice, hoping to get them into trouble for sexual misconduct (though that was certainly not how the Slytherin's mind phrased it. Let's put it this way, Harry turned away from that thought with a very strong mental blush.) Reaching out quickly, Harry sifted through the Gryffindors, giving them a strong desire not to drink Pumpkin Juice that evening, but found three who already had -- and, to his dismay, got rather caught up in his thoughts. Something he definitely didn't want to do. This would be difficult, but a good challenge for him. The aphrodisiac was strong, and the web surrounding that part of those student's minds was extremely strong.

Harry was fairly certain that he'd have little luck shredding that web, so instead he strengthened the threads of their self-control, adding on more and more layers until he felt certain that that web would counteract the aphrodisiac -- especially since webs placed by a Dreamwalker were much more native to a person's thoughts than those ingested unwillingly through a potion.

Harry figured he was succesful when he noticed no. . .overtly. . .er. . .yeah. Those thoughts. Coming from Gryffindor that night.

He didn't dreamwalk that night, but instead fell into a deep and dreamless sleep, waking up refreshed the next day. A week passed like this, Harry listening to people's thoughts and, occasionally, preventing both Gryffindor and Slytherin pranks. As the match got closer, he found himself getting worked harder and harder, as both houses tried to improve their chances by attacking the players on the other house's teams. Both houses were providing escorts for their players of the best in DADA, with drawn wands and constantly recast shields. It was pretty intimidating for the Squib sixteen-year-old referee.

Though, perhaps, no more a Squib.

Somehow, he found that the Waking Mind was coming to him faster and better than the Sleeping Mind or Waking Dream. It seemed to fit him - perhaps this was why so few people became adepts of more than one or two paths. It was hard to force his mind into pathways unfamiliar to it. But he knew he would, eventually. He had promised his parents.

It was the night before the match. At dinner, Dumbledore had announced that Harry would be refereeing, and Harry had to admit himself scared by the thoughts he gleaned off the minds of the Gryffindors and Slytherins. None were very happy, and most would not be too displeased if a stray bludger knocked him off his broom. He locked his broom in his trunk, and was currently trying to weave dream-threads around it, to convince anyone who came near that they should be at the other side of the castle. He hadn't yet quite mastered the process of setting dream threads outside of a mind, yet. But hoped to complete it soon. He wouldn't want anyone tampering with his broom.

A knock at the door, and Ginny Weasley walked in. "Hey, Harry," she said. "You worried?"

"A bit," Harry said truthfully.

"You'll do fine. Don't worry."

"How do you know?"

"I just do. You are a great wizard, Harry. See you at the game." With that, she bent over and kissed his cheek.

After she left, Harry sat dazed for a minute, and then turned to the trunk. With a snap, the dream webs came into place.

He couldn't dream of Ginny that night, but if he hadn't been a Dreamwalker, he knew he would have. Maybe it wasn't such a great trade. . .but, no, he shook his head. That was just hormones speaking, wasn't it?

A/N: I was going to try to get the Quidditch game into this update, but just didn't have time. Expect another update a bit sooner than usual -- and with the next chapter the first section of this book will be complete (there are 5 main sections of the story, BTW, so it won't be over for a while. . .hope you stay interested.) Review, please!


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